


the stars are fixed and ever changing

by AtoTheBean



Series: A Bleary, Hopeful Universe [7]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Growing Up, M/M, Pinto de Mayo, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-02-26 15:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18719632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtoTheBean/pseuds/AtoTheBean
Summary: Balancing career and family is always hard... nevermind when the kids start tipping the scales.(Remember when I said I was done writing Bleary!verse?  Yeah, I didn't believe me either.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ducky and Punk for the beta help.

The best thing about dinner meetings is that the traffic is so light when he gets out. Even so, it’s late when Chris finally punches the code into the control panel for the gate and pulls up the drive.

“Honey, I’m home,” he calls as he toes off his shoes and checks the mail on the entry table… it seems to be the usual mix of bills and information from non-profits asking for donations — theater groups, children’s hospital, some science foundation. He piles it up to open later. 

“Hi, baby,” Zach greets, leaning in for a kiss. “Am I pouring you red wine because we’re celebrating or scotch because you’re frustrated?”

Chris wraps an arm around Zach’s lower back to keep him close. “Wine,” he mutters against Zach’s lips. “It went well.” Chris takes advantage of the otherwise empty entryway to kiss Zach again, earning an appreciative hum.

“Good. I have a Pinot Noir breathing. I’ll go get you a glass.”

“Where are the kids?” Chris asks, reluctantly letting Zach go and following him into the kitchen.

“Mira’s in her room finishing her math homework — or maybe science — and Nate is still at rehearsal, but he texted and said Justin would drive him home by 10.” Zach hands him a glass of wine. “I should go check on Mir and remind her it’s almost bedtime."

“I’ll do it,” Chris offers with one more kiss, then padding back toward the kids' bedrooms.

It’s hard to imagine that when he bought this place he thought it was the perfect bachelor pad. True, the view is fantastic, and the pool is nice, but the game room is now dominated by a game console that he has no idea how to work — the pool table actually collecting dust — and the movie collection has expanded to include a frankly obscene number of musicals, nature documentaries, and concerts for bands he only vaguely knows. He lived alone in this house for only a few years. It’s had a family in it going on sixteen.

He walks down the hall past the world map, pins showing all the locations they’ve traveled together. A bunch in the U.S. and Canada, a handful in South and Central America, four in Europe, two in Africa, two in Asia and one in Australia. About half the international ones were travel for a film or a film festival. Some, the kids don’t even remember, but he does. He loves those trips. He loves their life. He knocks on Mira’s ajar door before pushing it open, noting the way she hides her phone and blushes. 

“Who are you texting?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“No one,” she answers, focusing on her math book. She’s _the worst_ liar. He finds it sort of delightful, considering he’s normally surrounded by actors who lie professionally. She’s on her stomach on the bed, books and papers spread out in front of her, feet swinging behind her. The princess pink they’d painted the room when she first joined them has long since been obscured by pictures and posters. The oldest picture, of her moms smiling in some desert, arm-in-arm, is framed above her bed. Her grandmother is there too, in Minnie Mouse ears from the last trip to Disneyland they all took before her death. There are pictures of Mira and Nathan in the Australian rainforest and a castle in Germany and on Space Mountain. Then there are pictures of friends. Her academic decathlon team, the robotics club, the jazz band. She’s active for an eighth-grader, even if it’s mostly in stuff Chris never pursued and doesn’t completely understand.

“No one?” he asks raising an eyebrow and stifling a grin.

“Just someone from math class wanting to check answers,” she says, but she won’t quite meet his eyes. She looks to the other end of the room, where bookcases are flanked by posters. Not of boy bands or actors, but planets and nebulae and the odd musician. 

“You almost done?” he asks. “It’s just about bedtime.”

“Nearly.” She bites her lip. “ I have an A- in social science.”

“Oh the horror!” Chris says, because really, she worries far too much about her grades. 

Mira rolls her eyes. “It’s just a dumb thing to not have an A in. It’s just memorization.”

“Well, you don’t like it much, so you decided not to devote brain power to it.”

“Yeah, but it’s an A _minus_.”

Now Chris rolls his eyes. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

“I won’t, Pop.” 

He turns to go and she asks, “How was your meeting? Did you get the part?”

“Yup! And we can all go to New Zealand for a month or so this summer. It’s going to be great!”

Mira bites her lip again and closes her math book. “Congratulations,” she says, but she doesn’t sound very excited.

He tilts his head. “You okay?” It’s hard to tell sometimes. She’s a great kid, but becoming a teenager. Mood swings are a thing.

“Just tired.” She gets up and packs her homework into her backpack, then rolls her eyes when she sees he’s still there. “I’m fine, Babbo,” she adds with an amused glint in her eye, hugging him on the way to the bathroom. 

She only calls him that when she’s making a point that he worries too much. Both kids switched from Babbo to Papa or Pop when they started school and realized no one else uses the Italian word. 

“Everything okay with Olivia?” he calls down the hall. 

“She’s fine. Stressed about a French exam.” Mira shrugs, stopping by the bathroom door. “But everyone’s stressed about something.”

“What are you stressed about?”

“Pops who insist on talking when I’m trying to get to bed so I don’t have a stressful morning?” she offers.

“Fine,” he says with a snort. Don’t forget to say goodnight to Dad.”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

Chris is halfway through his wine by the time she comes out in sleep pants and a stretched out Black Widow tee.

“Good night, pumpkin,” Zach says as he reaches out to hug her. “You brush your teeth?”

“And flossed.”

“You hear we’re off to see the Hobbits?” Zach asks. “Ooh. And Gondor… you think we’ll see Aragorn?”

“Nathan is the one with the crush on Aragorn, not me. And you know none of that is real, right? And they’re _really_ old now.”

“Hobbiton is real,” Chris counters. “At least parts of it. We should do a tour.”

Mira shrugs. “That could be cool.”

Chris wishes her goodnight and watches as she pads down the hall, curls bouncing.

He looks at Zach. “Is it my imagination or did she used to be easier to impress?”


	2. Chapter 2

“We’ll talk about it tonight,” he hears Zach say early the next morning as he enters the kitchen.

“Talk about what?” he asks, grabbing some coffee. Mira is sitting at the bar eating scrambled eggs and reading something on her phone, and Nathan is glaring at Zach and looking like a quintessential theater kid: floppy hair, mismatched clothes... Chris is pretty sure he’s seen a picture of Zach in that _exact_ striped shirt from when he was in high school.

“Do you know when we might be going to New Zealand?” Nathan asks, cutting across Zach’s hissed _Nathan!_

“No. They’re still finalizing the film schedule. They have WETA creating a bunch of props that have to be ready first. Why?”

"Phantom Theater group is doing _Spring Awakening_ this summer, and Ms.Torkelson encouraged me and Justin to audition.”

“I thought that was an over-18 company,” Chris muses.

“They’re expanding, and doing this just with high schoolers. It’d be a great opportunity and would look really good on college admissions,” Nathan argues.

“You won’t have to worry about college admissions, New Zealand, or a summer production if you don’t get your math grade up,” Zach interjects, “because you’ll be in summer school. Extracurriculars won’t matter if you don’t have the basic requirements.”

“What’s wrong with your math grade?” Chris asks, trying to catch up.

“I didn’t do very well on the last test in geometry,” Nathan admits. “But it’s so stupid. I’m never going to have to know that stuff.”

“Actually, geometry is the most useful kind of math for set design,” Mira claims, still reading her phone. She looks up in the silence that follows. “Well, it is.”

“Not helping, Mira,” Nathan mutters.

“It’s almost time to leave for school,” Chris says to preemptively break up any brewing fight. “We can talk about it later. Nathan, bring that exam home so we can help you go through it and sort out what you missed.”

“You’re going to help?”

“Not personally, no; I sucked at math, too. But Dad’s right, you need it to get into college, even if you plan to apply to a theater program. I can see about a tutor.”

“I’ll help this weekend,” Mira offers.

“Great, that’s not mortifying at all,” Nathan mutters.

“We all play to our strengths, Nate,” Zach says. “Thank you, Mira, but I don’t think you’ve seen this kind of math before.”

She shrugs and goes back to reading texts on her phone.

“Okay, anything else we need to go over for the schedule tonight? Nathan, you have rehearsal again?”

“Seven to ten-thirty, since it’s Friday. Justin says he can drive me.”

“And you’re driving on the way to school,” Zach says, holding up the keys. “You still need to clock student driving time before you can take the test for your license. And with all these rehearsals, you _need_ to get your license. Chris, can you get Mira to school?”

“Yup, I’m on it. Nearly ready, pumpkin?”

She nods, carrying her plate to the sink and rinsing it. She’s wearing a tee that says _This princess saves herself_ with an image of Princess Leia on it and is rocking a pair of Converse her friend Sophia painted stars and planets on. The cargo pants and loose top don’t really hide the fact that she’s growing up, too. She grabs her backpack, completely overladen with books, and heads to the front door.

“Hey, Pop?” she asks when they’ve been driving a few minutes.

“Yeah?”

“Olivia wants me to go shopping with her tomorrow at ten. Can I go?”

Chris looks at her sideways, because Mira would rather do almost anything than go shopping. They get half her clothes from nerdy tee-shirt sites on the internet. Only Katie manages to get her out for a girls’ day every so often to buy her pants that actually fit her. “What kind of shopping?”

“Formal dress,” Mira groans, and that seems more like conventional Mira. “Tickets just went on sale for the Eighth Grade Dance, and since she has a boyfriend, Olivia knows she’s going and wants to get a dress before things get picked over. And she wants me to tell her what makes her looks good.”

“Well, sure. That’s fine. Do you need a ride?”

“I think her mom’s going to take us to some places on Santee… it sounds like a nightmare, but…” she shrugs.

“It could be fun,” Chris protests. “Dress-up for grownups… or you, know…”

“Awkward pre-teens?” Mira asks, smirking.

“Something like that.” After a few moments, he asks, “Do you need a dress for this, um, dance thing?”

Mira bites her lips. “Probably not. I mean, I’m not dating anyone, and it isn’t the sort of dance you can just go to with a bunch of friends.”

Chris can’t decide if she sounds relieved or disappointed. “Well, tell you what… if you see anything interesting while you’re out, try it on and take pictures, and we can go back if you decide to go. Or, you know, just use it to get ideas of what you might like, and we can look other places. But it might be fun for you to try things on, too.”

“Maybe,” she muses. “Since I’m not _really_ looking, I could try on the most outlandish things for fun... though that would mean dealing with the sales witches who control the dressing rooms.”

“Outlandish sounds cool. See? You can totally work this to your advantage. And if you find a dress you like, _you_ can ask someone to go to the dance with you, so you have an excuse to wear it.”

“Yeah…” Mira says, not quite as sarcastically as he’d expect. He raises an eyebrow in surprise.

“Is there someone you’d consider asking?”

“No,” she says quickly, slumping down in the seat a bit. “Dances aren’t my thing.”

“Okay,” Chris agrees. “But it would be okay if they were, on occasion. I don’t think it would totally annihilate your brand of “badass-science-princess-who-can-save-herself-thank-you-very-much” if you put on a fancy dress and went to a conventional dance with someone you cared about.” He’s careful not to say “boy”. She hasn’t shown a preference yet and he doesn’t want to seem to push her one way or another.

She smirks at him. “Maybe. It’d have to be some dress, though.”

He laughs as he pulls into her school. “Have a good day, pumpkin.”


	3. Chapter 3

Saturday morning Zach and Chris go to the farmer’s market. They used to bring the kids, but now it counts as couple time. They get to hold hands and make plans for the week… Zach does his usual thing where he buys far more fruit than they can _eat_ in a week. And they talk about work and the kids… all the things they might have been too busy to really talk about during the hustle and bustle of school and work. It’s their ritual… the way to catch up on what everyone’s going through and make sure they’re both in the loop.

The sun is shining and the bougainvilleas are starting to bloom, and it feels painfully, beautifully Los Angeles. Chris loves to travel, but he can’t imagine living anywhere else. They take their coffees to the shade of a tree in the park and sit for a while, watching the families with little kids begging for organic cupcakes and running around with wild abandon. They used to have kids like these: little tots who would follow them around and be enthusiastic about grass and flowers and puppies. Zach laughs as one little girl tackles her brother.

Chris remembers it all fondly, but he doesn’t really miss it. Or, he does in some ways, but he also has to admit that the kids just get more and more cool as they get older. Nathan is gangly and awkward and basically Zach with blue eyes, which Chris loves and Zach finds exasperating, remembering all his own faults. Nate is brash on stage and shy otherwise, but he knows who he is, and unlike Zach growing up, hasn’t been made to feel guilty about it. He’s pretty well adjusted and he’s doing well, despite the math grade. Chris and Zach know how to parent him. Their own experiences apply.

Mira’s harder. With the death of her grandmother, she’s lost her last thread back to her moms. She doesn’t really remember them, but Chris thinks she still feels their loss. And for much of what’s important to her — math and equality and science — Chris and Zach’s experiences don’t really apply. So they talk more.

“Do you know what’s going on with our girl?” Zach asks quietly.

“What do you mean?” Chris asks.

“She’s been quiet this week. More quiet than usual.”

“Hmmm. Well, there’s the whole dance thing. I think maybe she’s interested in someone but is afraid to ask them, or afraid they won’t ask her, or however that’s going to work out.”

“Who?” Zach asks, alarmed.

“I don’t know… I wasn’t going to press her on it, but I got the sense when we talked that she’s not thinking that it would be nice to go to a dance with whomever, but more that there’s someone she’d like to go out with, and the dance may be a way to get there.”

Zach looks out across the park again. “I am not ready for our baby to date.”

“Well, it might not be happening yet, but her best friend has a boyfriend, so you know… buckle up.”

Zach shakes his head, smiling and taking another sip. “Crazy,” he mutters. “Though I guess Nate was about her age when he first started movie nights with Kyle that turned into a sort of relationship.”

“I don’t think either of them are as awkward as we were at their ages,” Chris agrees. “Though from what I understand Olivia having a boyfriend mostly means they hold hand at school.”

They watch the kids play for a bit longer. “I don’t think that’s it,” Zach says after a few minutes. “She was distracted on Monday, and the dance announcement came out on Wednesday.”

“Hmmm. She said she has an A- in Social Science… maybe it’s that.”

“I don’t know why she would care.”

“Because she’s Mira,” Chris offers.

Zach shrugs. “It shouldn’t be science or math. She’s still sort of glowing from placing at the science fair and getting that write up in the school paper.”

“Her teacher was following up on that, right? Trying to get her qualified for the next tier up?”

“Yeah,” Zach agrees. “I haven’t heard more about that.”

“Okay. We can try to follow up on that. What about Nate? Are you serious about summer school?”

“I mean, he has to get through geometry, and he wants to take advanced drama, and stagecraft, _and_ choir next year. So if he doesn’t pass this year, he’ll have to either do summer school or drop one of those and take math again. And he’s smart enough to do it, he’s just not making it a priority. And I hate to say it, but if he were to get _Spring Awakening_ , it really would look good on an application.”

“Yeah,” Chris mutters.

“But maybe he won’t get in?” Zach adds, bumping Chris’ shoulder with his own.

“I’m not going to hope my son doesn’t audition well,” Chris protests. “I’m not that far gone. Just, you know, there was a time he would have been really excited about seeing Hobbiton.”

Chris’ phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out to see a photo from Mira in a sparkly pink prom dress so low cut the opening nearly reaches her navel. He’s actually seen dresses like this on the red carpet before, but he’s never had this particular reaction.

_CP: Absolutely not!_

_Mir: Chill, Pop. Outrageous, remember? I don’t have enough to hold it up, anyway._

He shows it to Zach, who mutters “fuck me” and pushes the phone away. Another picture buzzes in a moment later, Mira in a dark red dress with the biggest skirt Chris has ever seen, flowers appliqued and over the bodice and growing more sparse as they trail down the skirt.

“She looks like a maroon macaroon,” Zach says, leaning over his shoulder. Chris snorts.

_CP: Dad likes this one better._

_Mir: OMG shut up._

The next picture comes in… a light blue mini dress with a long tulle skirt over it that doesn’t conceal anything. Something is appliqued onto this one, too. Tiny stars, Chris thinks when he zooms in.

_CP: The skirt’s too short, but I like the stars. Nice pairing with the Doc Martens._

_Mir: I’d need new Docs, I think. Something with coordinating laces._

“She’s having fun, at least,” Zach says. “And it doesn’t sound like we have to actually talk her out of any of them.”

“Yeah,” Chris acknowledges.

_CP: See anything that could actually work?_

_Mir: Nah. They’re all ridiculous. Too many flowers and too much poof. Or not enough...anything. Olivia found something, though. A two-piece. It sort of looks like she’s going to be a dance extra in a Bollywood film, but she’s happy._

_CP: Well, you never know. School dances can be strange things._

_Mir: Pop, this is not going to be 'High School Musical 3000' or whatever._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks to my lovely betas Punk and Ducky, who are keeping my ramblings coherent with this one. You are the best!
> 
> And thanks to everyone who's commented!

They wake up late the next morning, warm and cozy with nowhere particular to go. This is the benefit of having teenagers. No one is waking them to demand pancakes or a movie. If the kids are even awake (unlikely), they’re self-sufficient and not likely to come to this part of the house for fear of what they might hear through the door.

Zach rolls him onto his stomach, kissing the back of his neck, his shoulder, even while trailing a finger lower, over the swell of his ass.

Chris sighs with pleasure and raises a knee to give Zach access. “You know, you’d think after all these years, sex would get boring.”

“Hmmm,” Zach’s voice rumbles against his skin. “Not yet, my callipygian lover.”

Chris huffs a laugh that morphs to a groan as Zach’s slicked finger eases into him. “Always with the vocabulary wars.”

Zach lines himself up a moment later and pushes in slowly. It’s a familiar, comfortable stretch, but still thrills Chris every time. Zach drapes himself over Chris’ body, a solid weight pressing him into the mattress and warm breath at his ear.

“I’ll stop using big words around you when they stop making you hard,” Zach whispers.

 _Fuck_.

It’s a dance they’ve done a thousand times. They know exactly what will please the other — exactly how to arch and move and touch — and occasionally they experiment enough to find some new way to earn a sigh or _fuck_ or _yes right there_. It’s not gratification, or not just that. It’s an act of generosity. An attempt to please the other, a way to remind them of their bond. Not the magical Vulcan kind but the hard-earned human variety that can seem so fragile in Hollywood society.

They finish sweaty and sated and ready to face the world together.

They clean up a bit and don fresh sleep pants and tee-shirts before heading out to the kitchen.

“Mir, you have to tell them,” they overhear. Zach stops Chris with a hand to the chest.

“No, it doesn’t matter,” she insists quietly. “I wasn’t even going to agree when Mr. Greenwood asked if he could nominate me, but he convinced me I should.”

“Do you _want_ to do it?’ Nathan asks.

“It would be amazing,” Mira admits. “ _So_ cool. But do you know how many slots there are? Like, forty. And the whole world is probably sending their projects in. It’s going to be so competitive. I probably didn’t get invited anyway. So it’s moot.”

“Or you did,” Nathan counters, “and the letter is lost in some pile somewhere. You need to tell them so they’ll look.”

“Then they'll get all excited and get their hopes up, and it will be that much worse if I don’t get it. I’ve been checking the mail every day. It’s not here.”

“Maybe,” Nathan says, but he doesn’t sound convinced.

“And New Zealand is going to be cool. Don’t worry about it.”

“New Zealand _is_ cool, but it’s also not going anywhere. Do what you want, but I still think you should tell them. They’ll be excited to know you were nominated, anyway. And it’s such a great opportuni—”

“Problem 13,” Mira says.

“Mira—”

“Do your geometry, Nate, or you won’t get a chance to audition for _your_ big opportunity.”

They hear a groan and the shuffling of pages.

“Which theorem applies?” Mira asks.

“Uh, Hinge Theorem?”

“Perfect. So…”

There’s a pause, followed by, “Twenty-seven degrees?”

“Check the back of the book.”

“Yeah,” Nathan says after flipping the pages, a bit of confidence in his voice. “Twenty-seven degrees. You’re right; this isn’t hard.”

“You’re just smarter than you think,” Mira counters.

Chris and Zach look at each other. It’s always nice when they stumble on the siblings cooperating, but what was that first bit? Zach shuffles his feet a bit and they start moving again, rounding the corner of the kitchen to find the kids sitting at the bar.

“Good morning,” Zach says innocently.

Mir says good morning, shifting in her seat like they caught her doing something illicit. Nathan raises an eyebrow at them, and in that moment Chris realizes that Nate _knew_ they were coming and outed Mira in earshot so they would realize they were fucking something up.

What a good brother.

“You guys eat yet?” Chris asks, pulling out a pan to scramble some eggs.

“No, but I made coffee, and I’m nearly done correcting the problems I missed on the exam... with Mira’s help. I can turn them in on Monday for partial credit.”

“That’s good. What are the plans for today? Homework? Any chance we can go catch a movie together?” He starts pulling things out of the fridge while Zach gets the cutting boards and knives ready. Omelets are a Sunday tradition as well.

“I have homework,” Mira says, “and then I think I’ll read on the hammock outside. It’s nice out, and I need to finish my book report reading this weekend.”

“How about you, Nate?”

“Homework and then running lines for the scenes in Act 2. And I have reading, too. _To Kill A Mockingbird_.”

“That’s a great book,” Chris offers.

Nathan just shrugs.

They have breakfast together and do the dishes, rapping to _Hamilton_ as they go. Then Chris excuses himself to shower.

He has work to do as well, but while that’s important, he feels compelled to get through his stack of mail other deliveries from the last few days. There’s a courier envelope from his agent with three scripts in it. He sets those aside to read when he’s done. He goes through the bills and ensures they’re on autopay and discards the obvious junk mail. Then he starts sorting through the possible junk mail. Letters from foundations that could be general requests for funds, or more specific requests for _him_ to do something. Those usually go through his people — when he’s being asked to make an appearance at Children’s Hospital, where he’s been active ever since they adopted Miriam — but sometimes he gets the request directly. Zach has his charities, too, a lot of it focused on LGBTQ programs. But it looks like those have already been removed from the stack.

Chris leans back in his chair, trying to think. Wasn’t there a letter from the Children’s Hospital on the entry table a few days ago? That isn’t here. And there were others, too. Something from a science foundation, he’s sure of it. That one might be Mira’s, and they definitely came in together. He goes out to the entry table to see if the pile from earlier in the week is still there, but it’s not.

“Zach?” he calls, walking out to the back patio, where Zach is reading a script and memorizing lines.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Did you move a stack of mail that was by the door a few days ago?”

He looks up and thinks. “I tidied the entry when I thought Katie was swinging by. I should have put it on your desk, but check the basket in the family room with the newspaper. I might have stuck it there by accident.”

Sure enough, there’s a whole handful of mail from last week that needs sorting. Chris takes it back to his office. He responds to the hospital immediately, sending off an email to the administrator of the program to indicate the dates he’s available for a “wish” visit.

Then he goes through the rest of the pile. Near the bottom, he finally finds it: a letter to him and Zach from SRS-JPL: Sally Ride Science - Jet Propulsion Lab Partnership. He opens it, and sure enough, it’s not a request for donations as he first assumed, but about Mira.

“Sally Ride Science, which offers science-based workshops for elementary through high school students, is teaming up with NASA’s Jet Propulsion Lab’s competitive internship program to offer maker space to students with promising science fair projects. Your child will be placed on a team comprising other students, a JPL intern, and a staff person. Each team will be given a real-world challenge and have three weeks to develop a novel solution...”

He reads on, realizing that unlike the Sally Ride Science Junior Academy, a sort of science summer camp that Mira had attended in the past, this program is competitive. By invitation only. Mira’s write up of her project and an essay about her love of space research had been forwarded to them by Mira’s science teacher… she’d been nominated, and she made the cut. “Please respond by the date on the enclosed envelope to ensure your space. We look forward to exploring new solutions together.”

Chris looks at the date on the envelope. It’s due next week. They could have missed it. He looks again at the program dates. July, because of course it is.

Sighing, he pulls up his calendar, Zach’s calendar, the very rough production schedule for his new film, and the webpage for Phantom Theater.

And he gets to work.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Punk and Ducky for the betaing and hand holding. Its been a rough week...

Mondays always seem particularly stressful, even if the whole family has worked over the weekend to get ahead on things. Zach is out the door early and his rehearsal goes long, and since Chris only has morning meetings, he ends up getting the kids from school. Nathan gets out first, excitedly telling Chris on the way home that he was actually able to raise his hand in geometry and answer a question correctly. But of course Drama is still his favorite subject, and stories from that class take up most of the drive.

“So let me ask you something,” Chris says to Nathan. “When you say Ms. Torkelson suggested you audition for _Spring Awakening_ , how exactly did that go down? Like, did she announce it to the whole class… or…”

“No, she pulled me and Justin aside after rehearsal and asked us if we were going to audition. There are a lot of male singing parts, and they want a lot of different body shapes and voice types. And the pit band is all going to be high schoolers, too. She encouraged Devin to audition for the band because it’s like electric guitar and cello and… I don’t know. I’ve only watched shitty youtube bootlegs of it—”

“You shouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah? Well then they should release an official DVD of the original cast — you _know_ they filmed it — so I can pay them properly. Anyway, I _have_ bought the cast recording, and the songs are great.”

“Do you have to audition for a specific role, or is it a general call?”

“You can specify preferences, but it’s general. I’d take anything, but I’d _love_ to do Moritz. Assuming we’ll be around.”

That last sentence is a little glum.

And Chris can’t offer any response yet, because by the time he got his head wrapped around all the moving parts to all their potential summer activities, Zach had gotten a call from the studio completely changing the shoot schedule for the upcoming week and was freaking out. They hadn’t gotten a chance to talk about anything.

“What time is rehearsal tonight?” he asks instead.

“Seven. I’ll get my homework done before I go.”

“Do you need a ride, or is Justin taking you?”

“Actually, Justin doesn’t have scenes tonight. I’ll either go with Bridget or if her car is full I might need a ride.”

“Okay. Keep me posted,” Chris says, trying to sort out the schedule for the evening. “Dad should be home by the time you get out, so if you can get a ride there, it’ll be easy for one of us to come get you.”

“I’ll text Bridget now,” he says as he exits the car to go into the house, waving as Chris pulls away to get Mira.

She is not nearly as happy as Nathan was. She gets in, distracted and chewing her lip, pulling her huge backpack onto her lap.

“How was school?” he asks, pulling away from the curb.

She shrugs and looks… not sad, exactly. Worried, maybe. Definitely not her usual self.

“Did something happen today?”

She shrugs again. He’s starting to get concerned. This isn’t like her at all. He tries to remember what was on the schedule today, and nothing really stands out. No essays, no presentations — those are the things that usually throw her for a loop.

“Did you get a test back?” he tries.

“What? No. Well, yes I did, but it was fine.” She bites her lip again. “God, I’m in so much trouble.”

“Why?”

She throws her head back against the seat and closes her eyes in an uncharacteristic display of teen drama. “I got asked to the dance.”

“Oh,” Chris says, still confused by her demeanor. He’s used to sighs and angst from Nate but Mira is usually pretty reserved. “Was it someone you don’t like?”

“It’s someone I like a _lot,_ ” she replies, looking at him like he’s crazy. “I said _yes_.” She bites her lip again and groans.

“Sorry, I think I’m missing something,” Chris admits. “So this… this boy?” He looks over at her in time to see her confused expression before it morphs into an eyeroll.

“Yes, a boy. Not everyone is gay, Pop.”

“I know that... I do!” he says as she scoffs. _“I’m_ not even gay, strictly speaking.”

She rolls her eyes again.

“So this boy, whom you like—”

“Drew. That’s his name. Drew.”

“Advanced math class Drew?”

“That’s the one,” she acknowledges.

Chris grins. “Advanced math class Drew who texts you all the time to check homework answers, but he’s always right so you don’t know why?”

She gets a funny little smile on her face. “Maybe…”

Chris laughs. “So, _Drew_ asked you to the dance, and you said, ‘yes’. I’m still not seeing the problem here.”

“The _problem_ ,” she groans, “is that all the dresses are _hideous_ , and now I actually need one.”

“Well, that’s not a huge pr—” He looks over to see her glaring at him, and closes his mouth fast enough that his teeth actually click. “They were _all_ hideous?”

“Every. Last. One.”

“Okay… how many stores did you go to?”

“Just the one, but they’re all the same…”

“We don’t know that. Do we know that?” he asks, glancing over.

She shrugs.

“Maybe we can call Aunt Katie and see if she knows anywhere we can try,” he suggests. “Somewhere not on Santee Street.”

“Maybe,” she says.

They make the call. Chris is surprised to find her available, and grateful that she seems to hear the panic in their voices, even over the speaker phone. He agrees to drop Mira off at her office.

“This is perfect,” Katie insists. “My 3:30 cancelled and I can just take the rest of the afternoon and have a girls’ outing with my favorite niece!”

“I’m your only niece, Aunt Katie.”

“And I can bring you back home after dinner. Maybe by eight? Will that give you enough time to do homework?” Katie asks.

“Yeah. I can probably get most of it done in the car on the way over,” Mira answers, opening her backpack and pulling out her math book.

As Chris drops Mira off, he extracts a promise from them both to text pictures of anything they’re considering seriously. He heads home pleased with how excited they both are. He’s sure they are going to have fun.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Punk and Ducky, and everyone reading and sharing their thoughts!

They do not have fun.

“She hated every dress,” Katie quietly confesses later to Chris and Zach in the entry hall as Mira huffs off to her room. “There were a bunch that were cute on her, but she _haaated_ them all so much. The only things she liked were the burger we had for dinner and purple and blue hair we saw on a girl exiting a salon next to one of the dress shops — don’t worry, I think I convinced her it would be a bad idea.”

“Wait,” Zach interrupts. “Mira actually liked it enough that she was coveting it?”

Katie nods. “She stopped the girl and asked who had done it and if she could take a picture. _And_ she took a picture of the salon so she wouldn’t forget.”

Chris and Zach look at each other.

“What?” Katie asks. “You wouldn’t actually let her do it, would you?”

“Mira never wants anything remotely ‘girly’,” Chris explains. “if she actually showed a genuine interest in something... yeah, I don’t think we’d shut it down. It’s just hair.”

“Oh. Well, sorry.” Katie shrugs. “I figured you guys wouldn’t be into that. I mean, you don’t even use shampoo,” she says, motioning to Chris.

“Yeah, well… her hair and my hair are pretty different. As long as it wouldn’t really damage it or something…”

“Oh, no. It was a good salon. Shouldn’t be any worse than any other color.”

“We’ll talk to her,” Zach says. “Maybe it was just a whim.”

Katie nods. “Well, good luck on the dress hunt. I can try to help again this weekend. I bought her some magazines hoping that will give her some ideas, but she might need a few days to recover.”

“Thanks, Katie,” Chris says, offering a hug. “Sorry it wasn’t the happy auntie outing we hoped it would be.”

“Don’t worry about me. She’s way more frustrated than I am, poor kid. I just have the sense that she’s looking for something specific and can’t articulate what it is. Maybe the magazines will help.” She hugs them both goodbye and turns to go.

“Sounds like this calls for tea,” Zach says as the door closes.

They enter her room five minutes later with a steaming cup of chamomile. Mira is lying on her bed, face down, a picture of misery.

“We’ve come to commiserate,” Chris says as Zach offers the mug. “Aunt Katie said the dresses were awful.”

Mira sniffs and raises her head to reveal a blotchy face. She’s not crying at the moment, though. Spying the tea, she shifts to sit cross-legged on the bed, making room for them. She accepts the tea and takes a sip as Zach rubs her back.

After a moment she says, “They weren’t awful. Some of them were cute. On other girls, they would be cute. I just felt like an alien wearing them. And the more I tried things on, the worse it got. Like, I was trying to be someone I’m not. Like I was putting on ill-fitting costumes… does that even make sense?”

“Completely,” Zach says. “Sometimes we just get overwhelmed, and nothing feels right, even if on another day it might seem fine. I’ve definitely been on that spiral before.”

“Maybe I’ll just wear a skirt and a really great nerdy tee.”

“You might feel out of place if you’re more casual than everyone else,” Chris says.

“At least I’d feel like myself,” Mira counters.

And yeah, that’s important, too.

“I’m still thinking we should be able to find a really great dress… maybe a really great _nerdy_ dress. You know, maybe if fashion feels like a costume, a costume would feel like fashion.”

“I’m not wearing a Star Trek uniform, Pop. I mean, no offense… the movies are great and all, but no. I would _never_ live it down. Besides, I like _real_ space.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Chris laughs. “Though if you change your mind I bet we could set something up. But I was thinking more about that film. What was it? ‘10 Things I Hate About You’? Where the friend goes to the dance in Shakespearean garb.”

“But I don’t even _like_ Shakespeare.”

“Hey! We don’t blaspheme in this house, young lady,” Chris says, remarkably maintaining a straight face. It takes a beat, but Mira snorts a laugh and rolls her eyes. Zach shakes his head, smirking.

“Sorry, Pop. I still don’t want that dress, though.”

“Hey, show us the hair you liked,” Zach suggests. “Aunt Katie said you took a picture.”

Mira digs her phone out of her pocket and navigates to the picture app. She shows them the back view of a girl with long wavy hair. The roots are brown, but a little above her shoulders, individual curls shift to purple or a teal blue, mixing together in places.

“It sort of looks like a nebula,” Mira says wistfully.

“It’s pretty,” Zach agrees. “I could see you in that.”

“Really?” Mira asks, startled. “My hair wouldn’t look like that, though.”

“Your curls are tighter,” Chris acknowledges. “But I bet it would still look cool.”

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Mira asks, with the first real grin on her face Chris has seen in a while. “You’d let me do it?”

“If you really like it, pumpkin, we can definitely look into it. Can’t we, Zach?”

But Zach is staring across the room at Mira’s space posters. “I have an idea,” he mutters, fishing his own phone out of his pocket.

Mira glances at Chris, but he just shrugs. He doesn’t know what Zach is up to.

“When is the dance?” Zach asks quietly as his phone rings.

“In just under a month,” Mira says as Zach turns his attention to the phone.

“Liam? Hi! I was wondering if you could look something up for me. On set last week I met one of the new people in the costuming department...a recent graduate of UCLA. She said she was planning on starting her own business and had already done some commissions. The pictures were pretty cool... Amara! That’s her. Do you know how to reach her? Oh… Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks!”

“So,” Zach says, turning to them. “I met this cool woman a few days ago… she told me that the secret to a good costume was that people had to be able to see who the character was — at least something about them — from the clothes they were wearing. If all those dresses in the store feel like they were made for someone else, Mir, maybe we need to _make_ a dress for you.”

The phone chimes and Zach scrolls to the texts and opens a link to an Etsy store. The dresses are each unique. Some look like they’re from the ’50s, some look vaguely steampunk or Westerosi, but they don’t look like costumes. It’s not cosplay-wear. It’s normal fashion inspired by unusual things. Mira is swiping avidly and then stops.

“That’s the Carina Nebula. I’m sure of it,” she says.

Chris looks over her shoulder to see a dress that might look like something from I Love Lucy if it weren’t for the blue and purple star field fabric.

“I mean, that’s not my favorite style of dress here,” Mira concedes, “but that fabric is amazing.”

“These prices aren’t bad,” Chris says, looking at Zach. “By the time we bought something and had it altered, it would be close to this.”

“Should I call her?” Zach asks.

Mira bites her lip, then nods with a small, hopeful smile.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as ever to Punk and Ducky!

Zach’s schedule is crazy — leaving early, getting home late — but after a fair amount of phone tag, he’s able to get them an appointment with Amara for Friday afternoon. He’s stressed but pleased, dropping a kiss on the corner if Chris’ mouth as he turns to leave for another day of shooting. 

“Hey,” Chris says, grasping his hand before he dashes out. “What time will you be home?” 

“Uh. Not sure. It should only take eight hours, but they’ve been having issues with the tech working in the fight scenes. We don’t have plans tonight, do we?”

“No, nothing like that. There’s something we need to talk about — nothing bad — and I don’t want to distract you when you’re running lines at night, but a deadline is creeping up.”

Zach’s full attention is on him. “Do you want to tell me now?”

“No, it’s too involved and you need to get on set.” He kisses Zach. “I swear it’s nothing you need to worry about. Go be fabulous. We just need to carve out some time to go over schedules.”

“Okay,” Zach says, still a little hesitant but turning toward the door. “I’ll text you when I get a handle on how the shoot is going. If everything is smooth I might be home for dinner.” 

“Break a leg,” Chris replies, grabbing his keys so he can get the kids to school.

Their lives are a balancing act. He and Zach manage to do a good job of staggering their filming schedules so that one of them is home with the kids. At least that’s been the case for the last few years. When the kids were still in elementary school, they would just drag them on set with tutors during lengthy location shoots. But ever since Nate hit middle school, they’ve tried to stick close to home. Nathan and Mira each have their own friends and interests and deserve both the academic rigor and socializing possible at a proper school. It wasn’t that hard to find projects closer to home. Zach’s been doing more television, which generally has a more predictable routine, and Chris tries to schedule his film projects between the television seasons or during the summers when he can just bring the kids with him.

But now they don’t just have two schedules to balance, and Chris really isn’t sure what to do about it.

He gets about four hours of solid work done before it’s time to be a parental chauffeur again. Zach’s held up at the set, so Chris grills chicken for the three of them and sets the extra aside for Zach to warm up later. He helps where he can with homework, drives Nathan to rehearsal, and makes sure one of the other parents is driving him home afterward. Then he sets about cleaning up. 

While Chris does the evening dishes, Mira sits at the kitchen bar dutifully going through the magazines Katie bought her. 

“Anything promising?” 

She shrugs and holds the page up so he can see. It’s pretty and way more age-appropriate than the things she tried on at the store. Sort of filmy fabric in a vaguely Regency style, but with butterflies coming off it.

“What would we call that?” he asks.

“Jane Austen meets Lothlorien?” Mira suggests, making Chris snort. 

“Not bad. Oh my god, could you imagine?”

She shakes her head, setting the magazine aside and opening her laptop. 

“Do you still have homework?” Chris asks.

“No, just checking something out.”

He comes around the bar, drying his hands, and sees that she has a bunch of astronomy tabs open. The Magellanic Clouds. The Aurora Australis.

“What’s all this?” Chris asks.

“Stuff we might be able to see in New Zealand. Do you think we’ll be as far south as Queenstown? We might see an aurora if we are.”

“Ah… I don’t know. We’re supposed to film on both islands, but I don’t know how far south we'll be.”

“Well, even if we don’t, it’ll be cool to see the Southern Cross. I’ve never seen it—”

“You have actually.”

“That I remember,” she finishes. “And the Milky Way…”

“We can see that here, though, can’t we?”

“In L.A.?”

She has a point.

Chris’ phone buzzes. “I need to take this, pumpkin,” he says, seeing Melissa’s number. “Dad should be home soon. Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

She waves him off, and he accepts the call and heads to his office. “Hey, Mel,” he says, closing the door. She’s got the tentative film schedule for New Zealand, plus three other meetings she’s trying to set up with various directors for future projects. It takes longer than it should. He hears Zach come home, then Nathan. Then the brushing of teeth and _good night, Pop_ through the door. He’s finally got the film schedule and locations for New Zealand transferred into his calendar and everything else tentatively settled when he remembers. “Hey, Mel. Can you ask about something?”

“Of course. What’s up?”

“Can you find out if there’s a… a telescope we could visit?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“A telescope. Is there… I don’t know… a university or something that I can make a donation to and get a viewing? Can you find out?”

“Um…sure. I’ll look into it.”

The house is quiet when he comes out. He makes his way to the master suite to find Zach already under the covers. Chris prepares for bed and slides in next to him. Zach rolls over and pulls Chris close.

“Did you get the chicken breast I left for you?” Chris asks.

“Mmm. It was good… Thanks, baby. Was that Mel you were talking with?”

“Yeah. Sorry I was on the phone when you got home. When’s your call in the morning?”

“Early. I set the alarm for 4:30. You said you could take the kids to school all week, and this way, I’ll be back around the time school’s out.” Zach nuzzles into Chris’ neck. “Oh, but you wanted to talk about something. Schedules. We still need to do that?”

“Yeah,” Chris admits, smoothing Zach’s hair back, “but it can wait.”

“You sure?’

“Yeah. Go to sleep, sweetheart. We’ll talk about it tomorrow after the kids go to bed.”

Zach yawns. “The kids usually stay up later than us on Friday nights.”

“We’ll talk about it when they start their second movie,” he revises, kissing Zach’s forehead. “Get some rest.”

Zach falls asleep almost immediately. It takes Chris a lot longer.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Punk and Ducky for all their help and handholding. I wish I had a good image to link for this, but like Mira, I'm drawn to different parts of multiple dresses.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading.

It’s another crazy morning and busy day, but Zach is back early enough to get Nathan home from school — no rehearsal tonight — and then go with Chris to pick up Mira and head straight to Amara’s office. It’s above a massive textile shop off Maple. Amara apologizes for the mess, explaining that she’s still moving into the space. She introduces her assistant and leads them into an open area with several sewing machines near a row of windows at one end, a large table stacked with drawings and bolts of fabric, and 10 dresses on upright forms, similar to the dresses they’d seen in the Etsy store.

Amara is young and very confident, greeting them professionally while looking like a quintessential L.A. bohemian, complete with nose-piercings, tattoos on her wrists, a lace choker, and cargo pants. Her t-shirt has an illustration of Alice from Wonderland and Dorothy from Oz sipping tea and the caption: “I’ve seen some weird shit.” He knows right away that Mira is going to adore her.

“You must be Mira,” she says after greeting Zach and shaking Chris’ hand. “Your dad’s told me so much about you.”

“Yeah?” Mira looks sideways at them as Zach shrugs.

“‘Brains and beauty,’ he said. And it looks to be true. Nice NASA tee, by the way.”

“I like yours, too,” Mira says a bit shyly.

“So, you have a dance coming up in a few weeks.”

“Yeah.”

“And what are you thinking? You’ve tried some things on?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t really like any of them.”

“That can happen,” Amara says sagely. “But don’t worry, I’m sure we’re going to come up with something great. You’ve brought magazines. Anything in those that you want to show me?”

Mira opens the magazines and points to the few dresses that appeal to her.

“And what do you like about these?” Amara asks after looking at the photos.

“Well, they’re not cringy sexy, and they’re not super princessy, but they still look fancy. But not _too_ fancy. I could wear Docs with this one,” Mira says, pointing to a short dress with a tulle overskirt.

“You could, though I wouldn’t recommend slow dancing in Docs… lots of potential for crushed toes,” she says with a wink. “So, all these dresses have sort of a filmy feel to them. This one is chiffon, and these two look like an embroidered tulle. I have a couple of dresses like that,” Amara says, turning to the dress forms. “Now, I have to admit, three weeks is a pretty quick turn around for me to do a completely original design, given the other projects I have. But if we can start with one of my existing designs and then customize it, I should be able to do that in time. And if you like it and want to work together again, give me more time for your high school dances and we’ll get really crazy together, okay?”

Mira grins and nods.

“So, I have four that are sort of similar to the ones you’ve shown me. I’d like you to try them each on, and we can see what you like or don’t like about them. We can mix and match some elements.”

“I liked one of your dresses online, too.”

“Oh? Which one?”

Mira pulls it up on her phone.

“Oh, that’s really different from these. That’s _this_ dress,” she says, reaching for a green 1950’s style dress with a tight bodice and full skirt. “Do you want to try this on, too?”

Mira shakes her head. “I like the stars. The nebula. Can you make one of these in that fabric?”

“Not exactly. Not that fabric. That’s a silk taffeta, and it won’t work for the styles you’re drawn to. It has too much body. But those nebula prints come in other fabrics.”

“Show her the hair, pumpkin,” Zach suggests, so Mira scrolls to those pictures and offers the phone to Amara.

“Is this how you’re going to do your hair?” Amara asks with a smile.

“Maybe?” Mira answers with a shrug. “We haven’t made the appointment, yet, but I’m thinking about it.”

Amara offers her an approving look. “This is interesting. Okay, go try this one on first,” she says, removing a dress from one of the forms. “Just go behind that screen. Remember we’re just looking at the shape and how you feel in it. We’ll pick fabrics once we have a general plan for the dress.”

While Mira is getting changed, Amara has a quick, whispered conversation with her assistant, who makes some notes and then leaves.

Chris and Zach linger in the background as Mira tries on several dresses, she and Amara deciding on the skirt from this one and the bodice from that one — changing sleeves and necklines until they are both satisfied with the shape. Mira still doesn’t seem _excited_ exactly, but she’s not miserable either. She’s thinking it through — problem-solving as opposed to just rejecting things. Amara is also asking her questions about school. Favorite subjects, friends, her date. Chris glances at Zach, and they both pretend they aren’t eavesdropping.

There’s a thud outside the door, and then the sound of someone trying to open the door. Chris rushes to hold the door open as Amara’s assistant lugs an armful of fabric bolts to the table.

“Wow. What’s that?” Mira asks, eying the bolts in the mirror’s reflection.

“Time to pick out fabric,” Amara announces with a smile. “Let’s go see the options Claudia found. And if none of these work, there’s a whole store downstairs we can look at, but she’s checked these out based on what you showed us earlier.”

There are four bolts of chiffon with different nebula patterns on them: one predominantly blue and green, one blue and purple, one mostly reds and pinks, and the last basically all of the above. Then there are netted fabrics that change color from one edge to the other — dark blue to light — embellished with glittery circles that look like stars against a night sky.

Mira touches them lightly. “I can use any of these?” she asks wistfully.

“Yeah. Though there are some things to consider. If you want the waterfall skirt, I’d suggest one of the smaller prints — these tulles with the glitter. The bigger space print will get broken up and just look like tie-dye — which isn’t bad necessarily, but, you know… be aware. The skirt you have on now would work with it though. Which one do you like?”

Mira bites her lip, debating, and then points to the blue and green nebula.

“Yeah, me too. Okay…” Amara unrolls bolt of chiffon and holds it against the navy dress Mira’s currently wearing. It immediately goes from standard prom-wear to something unique and very Mira.

Her eyes are like saucers.

“Dad, look!”

“I see it, pumpkin!”

“Actually, I like it over the dark fabric,” Amara muses. “Makes it pop. It’s so sheer that it will go pastel if you don’t back it with anything. I wonder if pairing it with one of these would be too much. Hold that there. Let me grab the blue tulle.”

They play for another fifteen minutes, and the longer they’re at it, the bigger Mira’s grin.

“This was a good idea,” Chris mutters, bumping Zach’s shoulder.

“I got lucky,” Zach whispers back. “It’s good to see her happy, though. You’ve been doing all the heavy lifting lately, so I’m just glad I get to help in some way.”

“It’s going to be great,” Chris whispers,

“So,” Amara says, looking at the piles of fabric they have laid out, “I think we’ve got everything picked out. And I’ve got your measurements. I’ll have the dress ready for a fitting in two weeks. Have your shoes picked out and we can finalize the hem then. And I’m giving you a quarter yard so when you get your hair done, the stylist can see the palette you’re working with. Those colors fade fast, though, so I’d wait and do it right before the dance,”

“Hmm. I might want it to be a surprise,” Mira says, looking at Chris.

“We can try to get an appointment for Friday after school,” he suggests.

Mira nods, beaming.

“So now all you need to do is get shoes and jewelry and you’re set,” Zach says. “I bet Aunt Katie would enjoy helping with that.”

“Poor Aunt Katie,” Mira says. “I sorta freaked out on her when trying on dresses,” she confides to Amara. She startles at a buzz and picks her phone up off the table. “It’s Drew,” she announces.

“Yeah? Does he want to check math answers on a Friday night?” Chris teases.

“I’m going to tell him that I’m ordering my dress,” she says, typing furiously with her thumbs. “Oh. He wants to know what color it is so he can get a tie or something to match. _That...may...be...a...problem_ ,” she says as she types. Then she takes a picture of the multi-colored nebula print and texts it to him.

It barely takes a second for the response to come back. “He likes it,” she reports with a grin. “And he said he’d do his best to get either the teal or the purply-blue.”

“That print comes in a silk,” Claudia offers.

“I like the chiffon,” Mira replies with a shrug.

“She means we could make a tie for him that would match,” Amara clarifies. “Pretty much. The colors will be a bit bolder on the silk. Or he could just google ‘galaxy tie’. I bet someone already makes them and has an Etsy store.”

Mira types out the message and grins at the response.

“I can’t believe I went from having no plan to almost a full plan in one afternoon. This is so great. I can’t wait to tell my friends and Aunt Katie and… I should give you back your dress,” she says abruptly, realizing that she’s walking toward the door still wearing one of the samples.

“That would be helpful,” Amara concurs with a smile.

Chris and Zach pay for the dress while Mira changes. As they head home, Mira is excitedly texting everyone and wearing the sample of chiffon around her neck like a scarf. Zach is beaming like a proud papa who solved a problem, and Chris idly wishes that the challenge of their summer schedules could be untangled as easily.


End file.
